Keep Moving
by MaraudersWolf
Summary: When your world shatters into pieces, all you can do is pick up the pieces and keep moving. For Remus, it is a lesson learned all too well. RLSS friendship, no slash.


**Disclaimer:** The characters and anything else recognizable as the work of JKR belongs to her, not me. They're just visiting my little world for a while.

**Warnings:** 1. If you're looking for calm, quiet Remus with snarky, sarcastic Severus, then they will be totally OOC for you in this piece. 2. Language – strong language that matches the strong emotions. 3. No smut, romance or fluff – not even a kiss – in sight. Lots of negative, painful, difficult emotions.

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Remus started at that piece of paper, ignoring the four sets of eyes watching him. His ears heard the words being spoken while his mind barely registered their meaning. His arms rested on the armrests, his hands becoming slick with sweat as he gripped the chair firmly. His throat swallowed convulsively, keeping his voice silent with the thick saliva he forced down. 

His mind whirled with the dawning of reality. This was it. The end. Final. He signed hurriedly, his fingers barely holding the pen that was proffered. The enormity of their actions struck with a force worse than any curse or hex. The throbbing just behind his eyes signaled a brewing headache, one that would match the intensity of the emotions constricting his chest when everything exploded.

Muttered words of "good luck" and "best in the future" were meaningless to him. He wouldn't be allowed to finish the day. He couldn't say goodbye – hell, even if his voice was able to work, that damn piece of paper said he couldn't say anything. Worse, though, was that he would never know why. He would never know what he did or said. He would never know [who m he [hurt or offended. He would never know how he managed to do it . . . again.

Shock settled in as he left the office, vaguely aware of another set of footsteps following. The rising noise and activity that designated the approaching end of another day failed to break through the numbness surrounding him as he walked through the halls to his little space in the building. Sitting at his desk, he attempted to put some order to the chaotic thoughts in his head. Glancing around the room became overwhelming. Nothing prepared him for this – for being told he was to leave everything and not come back. Logic and reasoning told him there was work to be done – several files were half-finished, some were barely started – but someone else would have to finish his work. He wasn't going to be allowed to do that.

The person who had followed him muttered something about "boxes" and left when Remus nodded. The moment of silence was broken by a choked sob as he fought to gain control of himself. A few deep breaths eased the tension in his chest and cleared his mind enough to focus. He didn't have much personal items here – a few books, some papers and photographs of his parents and friends. His resolve threatened to break again as he looked at those smiling faces. His parents – how could he tell them? He knew he had to, since he was living in their house. They would surely notice, even if he attempted to hide it. His friends – most were gone, thanks to the war, but what would they think of him, if they were here? Would they shake their heads in disgust? His eyes rested on one photograph in particular: a snapshot of Severus at his desk in the Hogwarts dungeon, surrounded by stacks of parchment. Few knew of their friendship – it wasn't something either of them publicly advertised – but it was one he treasured. "Oh, Severus," he whispered, "what-"

His thoughts were interrupted by the slight ruffling of papers, a sound he knew all too well. Being in a Muggle school, parchment was unheard of outside of the history books, so Remus had disguised one piece as a yellow notepad. Seeing that he was still alone, he whispered "reveal," watching the spidery words appear.

I am going to Diagon Alley for potions supplies. Join me for dinner at the Leaky Cauldron? S

Remus stared at the message, his brain trying to process while his hand automatically sought out the closest writing instrument. He choked back a sob, his mind unable to formulate a coherent thought, let alone a response. All Remus knew was that he didn't want to burden his friend – his one remaining friend through the tumultuous years of growing up – with his problems. His fingers grasped the marker – one of the smelly ones the students liked – and made a big "X" on the disguised parchment. Another whispered word – "send" – and the message faded as he shoved it into his satchel – that was one item he was not leaving behind.

A knock at the door broke the silence again. A stack of empty boxes – far more than he actually needed – was tossed into the room, followed by an out-of-breath colleague, there to oversee his "packing." Remus took another deep breath and shut off all functions of thinking and logic, working on automatic-pilot to find his personal items and pack them up.

Two hours later, Remus left the school building for the last time. The sun was on its downward trek as he found his secluded spot to Apparate. A tap of his wand sent his boxes to his room at his parents' house, but he didn't want to go home, yet. He wanted to escape. He wanted to think. He wanted to cry. He wanted to collapse. No, he didn't want to go home, not that it was "home." He lived in a house with his parents – it was their home. He hadn't thought of it as "his home" since finishing Hogwarts. He still depended on them for things – shelter, food and especially the safety of the cellar for his transformations – and there was a part of him that didn't like that. A part of him said he should be independent – he should be living on his own, able to afford his own place with decent food, clothing and everything else that he needed.

A soft _pop!_ and a rustling of leaves announced that he had left.

He fell to his knees as he landed roughly – it was a sign of how strong the emotions churning inside him when his normally fluid Apparating was rough. A part of him was thankful he had not splinched himself – at the moment, no one knew where to find him, should he have been injured.

The feelings that had started hours earlier were just beneath the carefully-controlled surface he maintained. Feelings he knew well – _maybe too well,_ he thought. It wasn't the first time he found himself without a job, but this time felt worse than the others. There was a taint of malice to the school's actions, something he didn't understand.

Anger rose hard and fast, outrage following closely. He wanted to strike out, hit something or someone. He wanted to pound his fist, kick his feet. He wanted to roar and howl. He wanted to unleash the fury, to let the world know how he felt at this moment.

Fear was next – fear for the future. He had been down this road before. He knew how hard it had been to find this job, as well as each of the prior ones. How close to desperation would he get this time? Would he be forced to consider jobs that he didn't like – that he wanted to avoid with a passion.

Frustration crept in. He had tried – really tried – and could tell himself that he had done his best with what was there, but his best wasn't good enough, apparently. He knew there was a lot of frustration working as a teacher and this school year had been worse than the prior one. There weren't enough people to help. There wasn't enough time in the day to meet all the needs of the students. He had voiced his opinions, trying to tread that fine line between being vociferous and passive. He loved his job and the work he had done as a teacher. _Hell,_ he thought, I _wasn't perfect at it and I know that, but what did I do?_ He racked his mind, trying to find that one disastrous event that led to this. Nothing, absolutely nothing, came to mind. Someone was ticked off because of him, but who, what or why was a mystery to him, which only added to his frustration. How could he be expected to improve himself if he didn't know what went wrong?!

Hurt edged around everything. It had hurt to be told that his contract would not be renewed, but it hurt far worse to be told to resign and not have any contact with the school or the staff. The reality that dawned created a physical hurt, opening a hole within himself, one that ached and burned at the same time.

Hopelessness. What was the point of living if misery was all he had? Why should he try to be happy if his world shatters to pieces every year or two? The dark beast in the corner of his mind wondered why he didn't end his suffering. Why he didn't try just not feeling anything?

Sadness. He would miss the kids. So young. So innocent. He saw their smiles and joy when something finally clicked into place. He would miss the staff, ordinary Muggles trying to do the momentous task of teaching with meager supplies and lots of frustrations. They had accepted him without difficulty, sharing in his laughter and amusement as well as agony and annoyance. He would miss the parents, especially those who had recently thanked him for his help and work with their child. Most of all, he would miss the students. Not having children of his own and not having the prospects of any, he thought of many of them as "his children." He tried to care for them the way a teacher should: showing an interest in them, but also leading them, correcting their mistakes while praising even the smallest accomplishments.

Time became irrelevant to him as he sat on the ground, his satchel next to him. His eyes stared off into the distance, seeing but not focusing. The slow descent of the setting sun matched the release of his tensed muscles and the brewing headache that he had suppressed. He accepted – hell, he wanted – the agony his body was offering as its response. Happiness was a rare find in his world. Agony was achingly familiar.

Something was wrong. That much he knew with certainty as he stared at the parchment in his hand. Exactly what was wrong was uncertain, but it was something. "Reveal," he muttered quietly, his third try. The parchment warmed, telling him the magic worked, but nothing changed on it, just like his other attempts. No new words appeared. The big red "X" through his short message remained – and why did the parchment smell of cherries?

This was not like Remus. He always wrote a reply – sometimes a hurried "yes" or "no," but always with a few words of explanation, not a large "X." With both of them teaching – he at Hogwarts and Remus at a Muggle school, it wasn't often that their schedules allowed them to be together.

Returning the appropriate scowl to his face as the next class of students began filtering in, he kept the parchment on top of his desk. Most of his mind was occupied on today's lessons and keeping his dungeons intact, but a part niggled with worry about Remus.

The end of the day couldn't come fast enough to soothe his mind.

Severus used the floo to get to the Leaky Cauldron. A look around confirmed Remus wasn't there. He stepped through to Diagon Alley and took care of his errands quickly. He returned to the Leaky Cauldron, but still saw no sign of Remus. _Where could he be?_ he thought.

Methodically, Severus began Apparating from place to place. He checked with Remus' parents, confirming that he wasn't there and hadn't told them he would be working late. He checked his own home, Spinner's End, and the Shrieking Shack, but none of the wards there had been disturbed recently. _Where in the name of Merlin is that bloody werewolf?_ he thought.He checked the bookstores and pubs, places where Remus frequented when he didn't quite want to be at his parents' place. His last stop was the Muggle school Remus worked at. He used a spell of his own creation to slip in unnoticed, only to find neither Remus nor his satchel there.

He hissed in frustration as he walked to the apparition point nearby. "When I find that beast, he's getting a tracking charm whether he likes it or not!" he muttered. Reaching the designated spot, he sighed, his hands rubbing his temples, trying to stave off the building concern. His eyes closed as his mind went through the list of places again. _Leaky Cauldron . . . Shrieking Shack . . . Flourish and Blotts . . .Fortescue's . . that Muggle coffeeshop . . . that smoky pub . . ."_

Then, he remembered one more place . . . one that he had found Remus at nearly two years ago . . . one that he had not checked, for a reason. "Damn Morgan le Fay!" he muttered, cold dread filling him. If Remus was there, then something was seriously wrong . . . again.

The sigh of relief at finally finding him and seeing him alive never escaped his lips. Even with the great distance separating them and the fact that Remus had his back to him, Severus felt the hint of Remus' emotions emanating outward. He felt the building of those emotions, like a storm brewing, as he walked up to Remus, circling slightly so he entered the man's peripheral vision and stood just out of arm's reach.

The last of the sun's rays dipped below the horizon, coloring the sky in shades of purple and grey. The field was empty, save for them and any woodland creatures in the forest on the edge. The silence was deafening, creating a dark mood that matched those emotions.

"Remus?" he said, his voice softly questioning. Remus didn't move, not even a twitch. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon, not even blinking. _Oh, hell,_ Severus thought, breathing deeply in an attempt to subside his own racing heart. _This is not good. Something happened._

Severus thought frantically, trying to recall anything that was a clue to what could have happened. Nothing came to mind – everything had been going as well as expected. _He was caught by surprise,_ he thought. _Not good . . . not good at all_. "Remus," he said again, "what happened?"

He watched as Remus opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound was heard. He watched the werewolf take several deep breaths, but he still said nothing. A shaking hand reached into the satchel. A piece of paper was withdrawn and shoved towards Severus.

Severus took it with one hand, whispering "lumos" for a soft light from the wand in his other hand. He recognized the Muggle paper, seeing the letterhead fro the school Remus was at. He read silently, his brow furrowing and the creases in his face deepening. "Remus," he whispered, "I don't understand." He knelt down, putting the letter back in the satchel. "Letter of resignation? No teaching for the remainder of the school year? No contact-"

"They fired me, Severus," Remus said. In the silence, the menace was clear. "They FUCKING fired me," he said, his voice breaking, "and I don't know why."

Severus felt his own heart plummet as he watched the man struggling to control himself. This man who found a smile even in the darkest moments – and there were plenty of dark moments. This man who was passionate in so many ways. This man who found the strength to fight off the dark creature inside himself every month.

"I don't understand," Severus whispered, his gaze focused on that strained face still staring into the distance.

Remus threw up his hands in exasperation. "What's there to understand!" he said, choking back a sob. "I'm out of a job – again!"

Severus changed positions, settling cross-legged on the ground, his eyes never leaving that pained look on Remus' face. "What did they say?" he asked.

Remus snorted, his lips quirking into a wry smile. "They said that they felt it was in my best interests to let me have the time now to 'take care of things.' What 'things' they're referring to" – he snorted again – "I don't know."

Severus nodded as Remus continued. "It can't be because I've had to take more time off in the last month – they don't know why I'm needing it." The quirky smile was replaced by a frown. "I know I mentioned my concerns about finding another job, given all the difficulties finding this one." Severus nodded silently, his mind remembering the stacks of papers and their conversations from two years ago. "Even if that's what they're referring to, why fire me with a month left?"

"I . . . don't know what to say," Severus said, watching his friend pull his knees to his chest, wrap his arms around himself.

"There's nothing to say, Severus," Remus said, his chin resting on his knees. "What else would you call that?" He gestured vaguely to his satchel. "They wanted me out of there and wanted me out NOW."

"But the school year ends in . . . a month?" Severus quietly stated, his mind working furiously trying to make sense of this piece of the Muggle world Remus was in. "They told you that you weren't coming back for the next school year? Did they do this to other teachers?"

"No, Severus," he said. "I'm the only one. They fucking fired me and I don't know why."

"Can you ask?"

Remus chuckled. "I have," the sarcasm clear, "just like when they told me I wasn't going to be back next year, that they weren't renewing my contract."

"And?" Severus prodded.

"Nothing," he breathed, pausing for a lungful of the sweet night air. "They don't have to say why, Severus. They just don't. None of the other schools have. This one is no different.

Severus nodded in remembrance. Yes the other Muggle schools Remus had taught at had not renewed his contract and not given a reason why. It was puzzling, though, why this school wouldn't even let him finish out the school year. That was different. In Severus' view, the school was being mean and spiteful, taking advantage of their power to do this.

"Can you ask someone else? That . . . that woman who also signed-"

Remus let out a mirthless laugh. "I'm a name – one of a thousand names – to her. Doesn't matter who I ask, they won't tell me why because they have no obligation to."

"There must be someone-"

"There isn't!" Remus shouted. "I've tried, Severus." He buried his face into his knees, wiping the wetness off his cheeks. "I know I wasn't perfect – who the hell is? – I said some things in haste at one time or another. I was frustrated with things and how they were going at times. I struggled with the children's behavior a time or two, but . . ." He paused, shuddering as he hugged his knees even tighter. "I don't know what I did that was so wrong, so different from anything else I've done all year, that they needed to do this to me. I tried my damned best!"

"I know you did," Severus whispered, his own emotional resolve threatening to break at having to watch this suffering.

"All I wanted to do was be a teacher to the children. I wanted them to become good people, to have a love of learning. I never wanted to or meant to hurt them! I don't know what I did that hurt them! I tried so hard!"

Severus simply nodded, not trusting his voice to remain steady if he spoke.

"I've thought and thought, but I can't figure it out!" Remus said, the exasperation clear. "I don't know what I said or didn't say. I don't know what I did or didn't do. I don't even know who I did it to, whatever it was that I did!" he shuddered, tightening the grip on himself again, nails digging sharply. "I've done my job the best I can – I've done what they wanted, so I thought. What did I do wrong? What happened that made it so I can't finish out the year? So I can't even talk to my co-workers that I also considered as friends?"

Silence settled between them, broken only by the sound of racing heartbeats and uneven breathing. Severus didn't know what to do or what to say. He had seen Remus distraught and upset before – that was nothing new – but never this distraught and upset. He felt confused and helpless, not understanding this part of the Muggle world Remus was in. He knew Remus had a passion for learning and wanted others to have that passion. He saw the joy Remus had talking about "his kids" and sharing in their exploits. He felt the frustrations with Remus at trying to do the best with what was available to him, even if it meant sacrificing one thing for another.

"Maybe I should leave teaching," Remus whispered, unwrapping his arms and sitting cross-legged. "I've been thinking about it, ever since they said I wouldn't be coming back next year." He stared at his hands that rested in his lap. "The fourth school to do the same thing – maybe that's a sign. They've all said the same thing. 'You've done a good job. Thanks for your hard work. Yes, there's a thing or two you need to improve on, but we're not going to help you improve. We'll just let you go when your contract is done, because we can do that.' I hate it, Severus, fucking hate it! The system is the same with every school I've been at."

"Surely there must be other schools-" Severus started to say, but Remus cut him off.

"No," he spat. "It's how the laws are set up. Until I get to a certain point, I can be dismissed without cause or reason. It's what the schools can do."

Severus watched his friend with eyes filled with concern. Seeing someone he cared for – even loved – being hurt or in pain, whether physical or emotional, wasn't something he liked.

"It's tempting," Remus whispered, "so tempting to just end it all, to stop this pain from the hole in me, to make it so I don't feel anything again." Severus closed his eyes, his own muscles tensing to hold back the shudder his body wanted to expend. He didn't like this part of Remus. "I won't, though. I'm smarter than that. I know it doesn't solve anything."

Severus let out the breath he had been holding. He knew Remus kept a tight rein on that darkness inside him, but it still scared him when Remus showed even the tiniest piece of it. "What are you going to do?" he quietly asked.

"I don't know," Remus whispered. For the first time in this conversation, he looked at Severus. "I just don't know."

Those amber eyes, glazed with unshed tears, did not hold the brightness and sparkle they usually did. They were dark and dull. Severus held his gaze as he shifted to sit next to his friend. This was not the strong, resilient man he knew. This was a lost, broken shell on the verge of collapsing into nothing.

"I do," Severus whispered. "You won't let this get the best of you, Remus." One arm went around Remus' shoulders, pulling him against his body. Severus' free hand reached into Remus' lap and gently gripped his shaking hands. "Everything will work itself out. You'll be okay, because you'll land on your feet and keep moving. You have to see this as a positive, that something better, something that is going to make you happy is coming to you. You'll see."

With those words, the restraint Remus had broke. Tears flowed freely with every sob. The anguish poured out in heart-wrenching screams and groans that echoed in the nighttime stillness. The slim body shook and convulsed, the head burying itself in Severus' robes while the hands became clenched fists and weakly pounded against his body.

Severus simply held the distraught friend, knowing this is what he could do to help. He would be there, by his friend's side. He would listen. He would hold. He would show his care and concern. Most of all, he would help Remus keep moving.

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_AN: Reviews are appreciated! Thanks for reading!_


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